He shuddered and opened his eyes. His pupils were so dilated that his irises showed as thin blue rings. He took the dagger from me, sheathed it, set it aside. His breathing, fast and ragged, matched my own. He leaned toward me, but I shifted away, moving to the other side of the room.
He followed, stood close but not touching. I felt his breath, warm on my neck. From upstairs, I heard the faint ticking of a kitchen clock, marking the seconds.
“Help me light the candles,” he said.
Adrian
I’ve set candles all around the room—soft white and inky black. We move in opposite directions, lighting them. My senses are amplified by The Power. I strike a match. The sulfur is a harsh burn in my nostrils. The flare of light is a shooting star across my retina. The hiss of wax catching fire is a windstorm in my ears.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she says.
“Trust me.” I turn off the room lights, and put on my special make-out music. Unchained Melody. She’s standing in front of the mirror on my wardrobe door. I slip my arms around her waist. “You’re so beautiful.”
“I’m fat,” she says, blurting out the words before she can censor them.
“You are not fat.”
She snorts. “Right. I’m not thin.”
“So?” I kiss the back of her neck. “Why do girls always think guys like them anorexic? I like my women with some—”
“Meat on their bones?” she supplies, her voice acid.
“Curves,” I say, pulling her even closer. “Soft, sweet, sexy curves.”
She melts against me. We sway to the music. Warmth floods my body. Cold fire burns through my veins.
“Your eyes are glowing,” she says. Electric blue.
“So are yours.” Red-gold, like a rising sun.
Light plays around her, white and shimmering silver. In the mirror, I see my own aura, blue, flaring neon bright.
“The Power,” I say. “The more I’m with you, the stronger it grows.”
“I’m afraid,” she says.
“Don’t be.” Our auras blaze, crackling with energy. “It’s meant to be. It’s why my father brought me here.”
“Meant to be?”
“Us. Together. Like this.” I run my hand down her arm. Sparks fly off from where I touch her, and she jerks, expecting pain. But the sparks only bring a kind of effervescence, like champagne bubbles bursting over her skin.
“It’s part of the plan. Once we join, we’ll be invincible.”
“What are you saying?” she asks.
I’m so buzzed by The Power, I don’t hear the warning in her voice.
“I want it so much, Gwen,” I say.
She pulls away. Her aura dies. The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. I don’t understand. What did I say wrong?
Gwen
His words numbed me. I want it so much, Gwen.
I want it so much.
The Power.
I should have known. It was too good to be true.
A memory came to me. I was twelve, driving my first snowmachine. I’d crashed through thin ice near the shore. My father pulled me out, but I remember the shock of the frigid water, deadening me.
Like now.
“You don’t want me,” I said.
“What do you mean? I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”
He seemed confused. I nearly fell for it, but then Unchained Melody ended. A new song started. When a Man Loves a Woman. I punched the power button on his stereo. The music died. Walking around the room, I blew out the candles. I reached for the switch on the wall, bathing us in artificial light.
“Gwen?” He had the nerve to look bewildered.
“And to think I nearly fell for it. When a man loves a woman? This isn’t love. This isn’t even lust. Unless lusting for power counts.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This!” I waved my hand around his room. “This whole seduction scene. How gullible do you think I am?” He turned away, took several deep breaths, and loosened his hunched shoulders. When he turned back to me, he was composed, with a relaxed smile lifting the corners of his lips. He moved in close and locked eyes with me. A faint glow still played in their depths.
“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his voice. “I didn’t mean it that way. Forgive me?”
For a second time, I fell under his spell. My body swayed toward his and the energy field around us sprang back to life. I wanted him to hold me, the way he’d held me in my dream. I wanted to see his face, open and vulnerable, the barrier down.
He smiled, ran a finger along the line of my jaw, tilted my chin up for a kiss. I looked deep into his eyes.
There was no love there. Only triumph.
“I nearly fell for it,” I sputtered. “I should have trusted my instincts. Your kind can’t be trusted.”
Adrian
“Your kind?” I don’t understand. What’s going on here?
She walks around the room, waving her arms as if she’s half-crazy. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself. Everything is you, you, you. What can I get out of this? How will this make me look? What’s in it for me?”
What? Where is she getting this from? What about her?
“You hypocrite. What did you get out of this, Gwen?” I see her thoughts. Her story about Mr. Dean, complete with a photo layout. Her new status at school; the status I gave her.
“Don’t twist this around,” she spits at me. “If I didn’t share this Power thing of yours, you’d never have given me the time of day.”
“Power thing?”
“Let me ask you a question,” she says. “If you could have me, but had to give up The Power, would you?”
She flattens me with those words. Would I?
“That’s what I thought.” She yanks open my bedroom door, stomps into the family room. She grabs her snowmobile suit, hops around getting one leg in, then the other.
“Gwen, wait, please, give me a chance to explain,” I say.
“You’ve got one minute,” she says, sitting down on the couch.
The look in her eyes warns me not to sit next to her. I go over to the wood stove, throw in a log. Sparks fly up the flue.
Think!
“Clock’s ticking,” she warns.
I’m picking up her emotions—anger and hurt. I should say it’s her I want, not The Power. But is it? How do you separate the two?
“Time’s up.” She gets up, heads for the door.
I grab her arm; pull her back down on the couch.
“Just listen for a second,” I say.
“Let me go!” She tries to wriggle out of my grasp.
“No. Not until you listen.”
She explodes. She’s punching me. Trying to kick me. She lands a good one and I lose it. I pin her down. She struggles, but I’m stronger. She can’t move.
That’s when her eyes go wide with fear. I read her mind.
“No,” I say. “It’s not like that. I just want you to listen.”
She doesn’t believe me. She makes a noise, almost a growl. She imagines a cauldron of boiling oil, imagines tipping it over me, searing my skin, bubbling away layers and layers of—
I pull away, rubbing my arms. She has one hell of an imagination. For one moment, I’d felt my skin peel away, burned and blackened, leaving bloody red muscle underneath.
“That hurt!”
“Don’t. Touch. Me. Ever. Again.”
I back away. “Look … I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to … I just…”
Wait. What did he mean? That hurt? How could he feel that unless he’s reading my mind. He’s been lying all along. That bastard!
“You bastard,” she says. “You lied to me. You’ve been reading my mind all along.”
She’ll never speak to me again. I’m about to lose her. I’m desperate.
“I couldn’t tell you. You’d have freaked. I had to lie. At least until I could gain your trust.” I realize, too late, that I should have left out the trust pa
rt.
“Trust. You call this gaining my trust?” she yells. “So tell me, what else did you lie about?”
“Nothing. I swear.”
Gwen
He was lying. I could tell by his body language. What happened next wasn’t totally under my control. It was as if all the rage and hurt exploded from me. A ball of sizzling, snapping energy flew through the air, caught him square in the chest. He fell to the floor, struggling to catch his breath.
I finished getting into my snowmachine suit, jammed my feet into my boots, grabbed my helmet and gloves. I yanked open the sliding glass door. Frigid air rushed in.
I won’t beg you to come back.” His voice was whisper-soft, but it made the hair stand up on my neck.
“I shouldn’t have come in the first place.” I walked out into the darkness of the winter night.
Adrian
How had she done that? It felt as if someone whacked my chest with a sledgehammer. I’m flattened on the floor, shivering in the rush of bitter air. Getting up is not an option. Breathing even less so.
How could she attack me like that? She’d turned everything around. Simply because I’d said, “I want it so bad,” not “I want you so bad.” It was a slip of the tongue. And she was all over me for it. As if she’d judged me ages ago and was waiting for an excuse to hang me.
And that look in her eyes, when I pinned her down on the couch. That hurt. How could she even think that?
Gwen
The sky had clouded over, but there was enough diffused light reflecting off the snow to guide me home.
I shook with the effects of adrenaline rush. I’d been so right about him. He’d do anything to get what he wanted. He’d think twice next time. I don’t know how I’d thrown that ball of energy at him, but it had felt good. I would never let him get the upper hand again.
What had I been thinking? That he liked me? Wanted me? How naive could I be? I’d let him play me. Use me.
I should have trusted my instincts. I’d known who he was the moment I’d set eyes on him. But I’d liked the way he’d looked at me. Liked the hunger he’d awakened in me. The way the visions came to me when he was near. And to be honest, I’d enjoyed having something, for once, that Joanne didn’t have.
But he’d been reading my mind all along! My private thoughts! What had he seen? I felt dirty. Exposed. He’d been in my mind. He’d taken away my freedom. I’d never forgive him for that.
I dragged myself up the path to our back door.
“Hi, Gwen,” Mom called as I walked past the living room. “How’d the studying go?”
“Great.”
“I was about to watch a movie. Want to join me?” she asked.
“Um, no, thanks. I’m going to bed. Worn out from all that studying,” I said.
As I washed my face, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Red hair, green eyes, red lipstick. I looked like Melissa. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? I’d changed for him. For his approval. As much as he’d betrayed me, I’d betrayed myself.
I grabbed my coat. “Mom, I’m heading into town.”
“Goodness, what do you need at this hour?” asked Mom.
“Hair dye,” I said. “And new glasses.”
SUNDAY, JANUARY 26
Adrian
In the morning, I call Melissa.
“Hey, Handsome,” she says. “How’s it going?”
“Great,” I answer. “Are you free tonight? Pizza and a movie?”
“What about Gwennie?”
The way she says Gwennie bugs me, but then I think, what’s Gwen to me now?
“We were never really together,” I say. “So, I’ll pick you up at six?”
“Okay. Let me give you directions.” She doesn’t ask which show we’ll see. There’s only one movie theater in town. Only one show.
I spend a boring day at the funeral home, listening for the phone, cleaning, sweeping a light dusting of snow off the steps. My parents call once from Winnipeg, to check in. I tell them it’s been quiet. No new clients. Just me, alone with my thoughts.
Every time I think about Gwen, I want to smash my fist through a wall. So I don’t think about her.
I drive home, put whitening strips on my teeth, shower, shave, slap on pit juice and cologne, rinse my contacts and put them back in, remember to remove the whitening strips, and then brush, floss, and gargle. I dress in black jeans and a black sweater, and head back to town.
As soon as I pull up at Melissa’s house, she’s out the door, down the drive, and in my car.
“You look great,” I tell her.
“Thanks. You, too.” Did I put my diaphragm in my purse?
I hide my smile as she checks her purse. She remembered.
At the restaurant, we barely talk. She’s mostly thinking about how good we look together. I’m mostly thinking about getting laid.
She visits the restroom while I pay the bill. I happen to glance over into a booth and see Jo and Conrad sitting together. What? They’d broken up, so what was he doing with her? I want to go over and ask. Maybe pound him in the face while I’m asking. But Melissa returns, links her arm through mine, and the opportunity passes.
When we get to the theater, I ask Melissa where she’d prefer to sit.
“Anywhere,” she says.
I touch her thoughts. She likes the back row, in the double seat. The make-out seat. Fine with me. We get comfortable, my arm around her, her head resting on my shoulder. With my free hand, I stroke her hair. She makes a contented humming sound and rests her hand on my leg.
I’m suddenly struck with the weirdest craving. I want an anchovy pizza. What? I hate anchovies.
Click.
Gwen. She loves anchovy pizza. Double anchovies. Her craving, not mine. She’s picking up the phone. Ordering a large.
I disconnect from her mind and put up a block. Only it doesn’t work. I still want anchovy pizza. I can’t escape. She’s in me, deep inside my mind. I can’t shake her.
I try to watch the movie. Melissa snuggles closer. I slide my hand down to brush against her breast. She murmurs, slides her hand farther up my thigh.
And then I break out laughing.
“Shhhh,” warns a girl sitting two rows down.
I laugh harder. Melissa wonders if I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. I hold it in until I reach the men’s room. Then I let loose.
Gwen’s watching a funny movie. She’s laughing so hard her abs ache. I lean against the wall, holding my gut, and laugh until tears stream down my face.
Some poor guy comes out of a stall, gives me a look of pure disgust as he races out. That sets me off again. It’s a few more minutes before I get control. This isn’t funny. What is she doing inside my head?
I return to my seat and Melissa. Dear, sweet, uncomplicated, wants-to-get-laid Melissa. The movie ends, and I realize I can’t remember a single thing about the plot.
“Want to come back to my place?” I suggest.
“Sure.”
We get into my car. I read her mind. She figures if I don’t start things, she will. She imagines, in detail, exactly what she’ll do.
I nearly drive off the road.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice kind of husky. I start a conversation about school, about the teachers, anything to distract her. It works. She spends the rest of the ride complaining about our English teacher. I do a lot of nodding and “uh huh-ing” and that satisfies her.
We arrive. I hang up her coat, show her around. We’re in the kitchen.
“Would you like something? A Coke, maybe?” I ask.
“How about a drink?” she says.
“Uh, we don’t have much selection, Melissa.”
“Don’t you drink?”
“All the time.” My one experience was getting drunk with some guys from school back in Milwaukee. I hadn’t liked the loss of control. Or the puking.
I open the pantry, hunt around. “How’s this?” I ask, holding up a bottle of bourbon.
“It’ll do.”
I get her a glass. “Ice? Maybe Coke with it?”
“Straight.”
I pour an ounce or so into the glass, set the bottle down. She chugs back the bourbon in one gulp, then half-fills the glass. Some splashes onto my mother’s prized kitchen counter. I grab a paper towel and wipe it off.
“Where’s your room?” Melissa asks.
We go downstairs, but I lead her to the couch in the family room instead. I throw a few logs into the woodstove. The fire crackles. Melissa’s hair shines red in the firelight, reminding me for a moment of Gwen’s eyes with The Power shining in them. I push away the memory and join Melissa on the couch.
Her drink is half gone. That bugs me. Does she have to drink to make out with me? But then her lips are on mine, and her tongue is in my mouth.
She tastes like bourbon, smooth and harsh and hot. She kisses me, hard, demanding. I pull off her top, reach around to undo the clasp of her bra.
“Wait,” says Melissa. “Where’s the bathroom?”
I point. She leaves, comes back a few minutes later. I know she’s put in the diaphragm. I’ve set a selection of condoms on the coffee table. She checks them out, grabs a scented one.
We move into my bedroom.
“Oh, wow,” she says, seeing the sword on my wall. She takes it down, starts to pull it out of its scabbard. I take it away from her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
I don’t know what’s wrong. I just don’t want her touching it.
“Come here.” I sit on the bed. She climbs into my lap. I run a finger along the curve of her neck and feel soft, soft skin. I lean in for a kiss.
“Oh, wait,” she says. She reaches into her back pocket, brings out two pills. “Here.”
“What are those?” I ask, but I can guess.
“They’ll make you happy,” she says.
“I’m already happy.”
“Aw, c’mon Adrian. It’s no big deal.”
“No drugs.”
She pops a pill into her mouth, swallows it down with the last of the bourbon. She takes the other pill, tries to force it between my clamped lips.
And it’s wrong. The whole scenario. There’s no energy. No aura. Nothing. And much as I am desperate to get laid, I’m not that desperate.
I stand, dumping her to the carpet. She stares up at me with a mix of surprise and anger.
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